= POV Chris =
It was midnight. Sarah was fast asleep, so I left to go to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the reflection. I was a bad person. A sick fucked up person. Sarah thought she was helping me, but she had no idea how fucked up I was.
My phone buzzed, and I opened it. Mr Lee had been asked to confirm this week's Gala dinner. I quickly sent him the updated menu and closed the phone.
I was lying. I was a fucking liar, and I couldn't stop. Seeing her standing there in that crowded room, talking to all those fucking people, letting them touch her….it was inconceivable.
I had spent years crafting the most perfect disguise. I had done everything in my power to hide my obsession with her and my stalker tendencies, and so far, things had worked out better than expected. After this detailed story, I spun, stringing her along for years, doing everything I could to show her that I would always be the better human, no matter who she dated…for it all to come crashing down around me…. I couldn't accept it. I would do everything I could to drag her properly back to me, this time permanently.
Three Weeks Ago
I woke up to a completely silent house. It felt eerie as I was so used to Sarah either showering or her music playing somewhere in the house. It always felt like there was a sense of life somewhere.
I got up and walked around the house, but she wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. It was only 5 a.m.; where could she have gone this early?
I went over to her bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks. The door was wide open, and I could see that most of her stuff was gone. She had only a few belongings, so when I saw that her notebooks, favorite slippers, and rite handbag weren't hanging in their usual spots, I knew that she had them; she had up and left me.
I rushed to my room, grabbed my phone, and called Ruby.
"The fuck you want, I hope you've sobered up," Ruby answered after one ring.
"Did Sarah move in with you or something?" I asked.
"No, but Heather mentioned something about coming in later than usual due to having to sort out Sarah's living arrangements. Why don't you call her? Looks like someone is finally sick of your shit, huh?" Ruby said, and I could practically hear the grin through the phone.
I hung up and rushed to the door. My car was still at work, so I would have to call a cab. I booked one on the phone as I grabbed a coat and put on socks and shoes. Within minutes, I was in a cab to Heather's place, and I was out of the door, slamming it shut behind me as I rushed to call the lift.
Fifteen minutes later, I was dropped off at Heather's apartment complex. I scrolled through the company registry list to find out which apartment Heather was in when a hand clamped down on my arm. I jumped and turned to find a red-nosed, puffy-eyed Amber holding onto me.
"Don't, I think….I think we should leave," Amber said.
"No fucking way, she's up there with her; I just have to talk to her; I swear I can get her to see things my way," I said, panic rising in my body.
I stepped towards the building, but Amber's hand yanked me back, still holding to my forearm like a teacher would a toddler having a tantrum.
Amber shook her head. "I was thinking the same thing, Chris, but then I thought, oh, wouldn't it be better if I made sure this never happened again?" Amber said, looking me dead in the eyes.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart starting to calm down a little.
Amber released me and turned to look up at an apartment on the fifth floor.
"Where I went wrong was not waiting until she felt like she was in control. I got too eager and took what I wanted too soon. No, I should have taken it slow with someone like Heather and played things out for the long haul until she was under the impression that she knew me inside and out, as you did with Sarah. Brilliant work, by the way," Amber said and turned to give me a little nod of appreciation. " So I'm feeling like screaming and crying and breaking things because I've lost control of the situation. The only way I can fix this is if I regain that control, and to do that; I plan a deep, binding plan that will make it nearly impossible for Heather to separate herself from me ever again."
"Well, how do you plan on doing that? She's up there, probably blocking you on every form of communication. She's your boss, she doesn't need you, you need her. There is no way you can one-other", I said, crossing my arms.
"There is one way. Using her kindness and compassion against her. I can't stop thinking of the look on her face when I was telling her to get the fuck out. She looked…broken. I could work with that," Amber said, blowing at her hands and rubbing them together.
At that point, I realized she was standing in the parking lot in only a singlet and jeans—she didn't even have shoes on.
"Did you walk here?" I asked, looking her up and down.
"Nah, I ran. I needed to clear my head. Can you imagine my surprise when I saw Heather helping Sarah out of a cab and into her apartment lift? Sorry, but I've never wanted to punch another woman's face more in my life," Amber said cruelly.
"Don't you dare," I growled, and Amber raised her hands in surrender.
"Hey, if you saw Heather holding Sarah, wouldn't you want to punch Heather? It's all cool, man, relax. Don't hate the messenger; the problem is that they are together, and they are both good-looking. How long do you think it will be before they notice that about each other?" Amber asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
I tore my eyes away from Amber and looked at the apartment building.
"Probably a month. Sarah isn't good at being out of a relationship for long, and Heather has a soft spot for cute shorties. This is a nightmare," I sighed.
"Only for us. Why don't we share the nightmare with them? They said that they could walk away without any consequences, so let's give them some consequences," Amber said, a slow grin spreading across her face.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Oh, you know, mental breakdowns, being needy, self: mutilation, that stuff," she said.
"Yeah, but I don't do that."
"Neither do I," she said.
"It's that being manipulative? I'm angry, not insane. How am I going to fake being mentally unstable around her to convince her that it's her fault?" I snapped.
Amber laughed, turned to me, and looked at me dead. " The same way you've convinced her that you are mentally stable and not a sick psychopath who has been stalking her since primary school."
I took a step back, my eyes wide.
"The fuck you say?" I snapped.
"Look, don't deny that you didn't do a background check on everyone working in Sarah's workplace and within a 1:kilometre radius. For someone as obsessive as us, we do thorough background checks. You might think you are hiding behind your new look, but I immediately recognized you from your yearbook picture as an exchange student in Hokkaido. You might have died your hair black and lost a ton of weight, but you have the same intense expression every time Sarah walks by. As a fellow stalker, even I think it's a bit crazy," Amber said and turned back to look at the apartment " Christina Fujimoto."
I reached out, but Amber batted my arm away.
"Relax, I have no intention of telling anyone. Why would I when I knew you know my background as well?" Amber said without even turning to look at me.
I huffed but crossed my arms in resignation. Amber was right. I had done my research and knew she was the third daughter of a prominent Yakuza family. She didn't do great in school, and her older brother inherited the leadership role, so she struck out on her own under an alias to follow her high school crush, Heather, a business graduate and also my business partner. Both of us had secrets we wanted buried deep, but it seemed that our personalities were one of the deepest secrets we were trying to bury from everyone, including the ones we loved.
"They'd never accept us, you know. We fucked things up. We should walk away before we make things worse," I said.
"We should, or we could go somewhere, beat each other up, trash our apartments, cut our hair, and starve ourselves so that we look as pathetic as possible, and turn up on the singles night and make them and their precious beating hearts sway in our direction. We could push their savior complexes into overdrive. We could draw out that maternal nurturing instinct that they have and fuck it over by making them think that we are poor, defenseless, abandoned cats that need to be cared for:" Amber started.
The silence stretched between us for a while.
I walked away. I walk down the street. And then I stepped back.
"That needs to be put back together," I continued.
"That needs to be saved," Amber said, nodding slowly. " And then, once they are good and convinced that they are in control again, We tear them down bit by bit until they realize that the only control they have, is how loud they scream when we fuck them, over and over again."
"Amber. That's fucked up," I said.
"Your masking is what's fucked u,p," Amber scoffed.
"Fine." I sighed, letting Amber have that one because she was right. "I know how we can get accurate self-mutilation results without beating each other up, I said, calling a cab.
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